


The Expected First Word

by overthemoon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drooling Babies, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overthemoon/pseuds/overthemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babies drool, smash their food, and generally copy <i>everything</i> adults do.  Mycroft knows this.  He probably shouldn't be so surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Expected First Word

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this gifset.](http://accurateriddle.tumblr.com/post/66088991172)

In his tenure as unofficial showrunner of the British Government, Mycroft hasn’t quite ever encountered true domestic bliss. The job revolves around dealing with the natural dysfunction of society, and happiness is never something that flourishes easily under those  
conditions. But then again, Sherlock and John always did insist on being exceptions to everything, didn’t they. Hamish Holmes-Watson, of the grand age of fourteen months months, and twenty-three days, takes advantage of Mycroft’s inability to deal with domesticity and smushes his peas onto his dish with abandon, grinning with delight at the green smudges blooming on his plate.

At least Hamish is sitting in a high chair. Mycroft smiles down at his nephew, seated a safe distance away between him and the spit and smashed peas.“And look who’s here,” he says. “Hello there, Hamish.” His smile won’t stay plastered on his face, and slides off quick. He sighs. He doesn’t have anything against Hamish, really, but good grief must children be so messy? Hamish gives Mycroft an impossibly wide grin.

“IDIOT!” Hamish says, banging his hands on the table. Mycroft squeezes the handles of his umbrella tighter. Excellent parenting there, Sherlock.

John says, “How?” Mycroft is surprised by the expression of disbelief stamped all over John’s face. Really, the child is under John’s care for the majority of the time. John can’t be _that_ unobservant.

Hamish babbles more baby nonsense; John sighs and walks over to shove a small spoonful of food into his son’s mouth. Perhaps, Mycroft thinks, he should sit down and attempt to assist with the feeding. If he is to maintain any sort of benevolent influence in his nephew’s life, it will require a personal touch. John’s defensive posture indicates that outside influence will be strongly discouraged, possibly with embarrassing (and horror inducing) displays of public criminal captures, after which Sherlock might be encouraged to display eye-burning intimacies.

Sherlock smirks at Mycroft from his enthronement in the armchair, and Mycroft revises the possibility of eye-burning intimate displays to a certainty. 

“There’s no need to look so smug,” John mutters. “It is your kid, after all.” John walks away and opens the fridge. Hamish turns his head, and opens his mouth to blow saliva bubbles. The drool bubble pops and dribbles all over Hamish’s shirt. Mycroft discretely pats his pockets for handkerchiefs, but there are none to be found.

It seems this would not be an opportune time to engage Hamish, after all. Mycroft smiles politely at his brother-in-law. “Afternoon, John, Sherlock. It was nice to see you and Hamish,” Mycroft says.

He can hear Sherlock chuckling as he exits the flat.

**Author's Note:**

> Commenty goodness makes me the happiest person ever. Kudos too.  
> [Please reblog if you liked it!](http://overthemoonwriting.tumblr.com/post/67435848564/)


End file.
